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Come all you jovial fellows, and listen to my song
It is a little ditty and it won't contain you long
It's of a fair young damel, oh, she lived down in Kent
Arose one summer's morning, and she a-nutting went.
With my fal-lal, to my ral-tal-lal,
Whack-fol-the-dare-ol-day,
And what few nuts this poor girl had
She threw them all away.
It's of a brisk young farmer, a-ploughing of his land
He called unto his horses, and he bid them gently stand
As he sit down upon his plough, all for a song to sing
His voice was so melodious, it made the valleys ring.
It's of this fair young damsel, a-nutting in the wood
His voice was so melodious, it charmed her where she stood
She could no longer stay,
And what few nuts she had, poor girl, she threw them all away.
She stepped up to young Johnny, as he sat on his plough
Said she, "Young man I really feel, oh I can't tell you how."
He took her to some shady grove, and there he laid her down,
Said she, "Young man, I think I feel the world go round and round."
He walked back to his horses to finish off his song
He said, "Young woman, you'd best be gone, your mother will think you long."
She threw her arms around his neck as he marched o'er the plain
Said she: "Young man, I'd like to feel the world go round again."
So, come all of you young women, this warning by me take
If you should a-nutting go, oh, please get home on time
For if you should stay too late, to hear the ploughboy sing
You might have a young morris dancer to nurse up in the spring.
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